Slipping Away From Us By Dr. Juan Harrison
Slipping Away From Us
Maybe it was my upbringing on a farm as a young boy before I migrated to the city. Somehow it must have seeped into my skinny little bones. A lot of us guys and girls have forgotten the sweat and toil of our agrarian days. What we do remember is the smell and feel and sights of the land, the pools, the trees, the meadows, Johnson grass waving in the breeze with sour dock and sheep showers waiting to be chomped on in the fields.
The total number of farms in America have dropped to an all time low. The number of dairy farms in our county have dropped from 700 in my youth to under a hundred today. It’s mostly turning into control by big farms and dairies across the country.
You can’t reverse time except on the Hallmark Movie Channel. Mostly a lot of us have to pull up those good old memories of farm life days. We tend to forget all the heat, cold, calluses, sunburn, frostbite, aching legs, tired back, sweat dripping off our noses. Much like losing a spouse, we gradually forget the bad times and focus on the good times and the comfort of having someone to share our lives and our beds with.
I spent a majority of my working time cooped up inside. Thankfully I was able to maintain a side hustle lawn service with my two sons helping out. Retirement came with a big sigh as I was able to spend more time outside doing what I enjoy.
I love being out there with sweat dripping down my face, grimy dust covering my arms and cheeks. I don’t even mind having to frequently change into 4 shirts to get rid of that clammy feeling from the sweat soaked shirts. I feel the breeze on my face. I stop and look at a freshly cut lawn and get a feeling of instant gratification that you don’t often get when you’re doing work inside, cooped up in artificially lit up rooms.
Maybe you can’t take the farm out of the boy or girl. Who knew when we were young and couldn’t wait to get out of the fields and on with a different kind of life that we might miss those days of mooing cows, grunting pigs, and clucking chickens. Maybe my glasses are a bit rosy tinted. Maybe my memory’s a bit selective. So be it. These days of leisure activity allow me a little more time to reflect on the good old days living on East Texas dirt spent soaking up the sounds, smells, and sights of a way of life slowly slipping from our reach.
By Dr. Juan Harrison
